


tease me (till i lose control)

by orphan_account



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 13:53:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5746252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>all emma wants is an orgasm. just <em>one</em> orgasm, to get her through the day. is that so much to ask?</p>
<p>written for swan queen week winter 2016 day 1: lust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tease me (till i lose control)

**Author's Note:**

> this was a little less porny than i had originally planned, but oh well.
> 
> for reference purposes, just assume an established sq relationship that's in relatively early stages, one that maybe would have started after 3b if i was better at putting things in a time frame.

Emma wakes up to a half-asleep arm, pins and needles tingling from her shoulder to her wrist. The reason for this, she discovers when she props herself up slightly on one elbow, is that it’s trapped underneath Regina, impossible to dislodge without waking her.

 

It’s not the worst way to wake up, obviously, considering that Regina’s ass is also pressed up against her and she can bury her head into the crook of Regina’s neck and smell the distinctive scent of her hair. But her arm’s getting pretty uncomfortable at this point. Emma loves being the big spoon (not that Regina really ever gives her a choice), but there’s always the awkward positioning of the lower arm to consider--does she reach it up to trace the lines of Regina’s neck? Wrap it around her body? Slide it down to her thigh and idly inch up until Regina rolls over and raises an eyebrow and says  _ no more teasing, Miss Swan  _ in that voice that brooks no argument?

 

Well, maybe not that last one, (at least not yesterday), because they’d both been so tired they’d fallen asleep within a few minutes of curling up together. Regina’s still completely out, mouth hanging open in an adorable kind of slack-jawed way as her breath wheezes softly, just on the border of something that might be called a snore. Not that Emma would ever dare, because the last time she’d suggested Regina snored Regina had said  _ snoring is for peasants, dear  _ and proceeded to tie her up and bring her to the edge until she admitted that yes, it was definitely more like heavy breathing and Regina was definitely not a peasant and  _ oh god please just a little more _ . And then Regina had sat up with a self-satisfied little smirk while Emma, panting and barely conscious, resolved to never mention the word again.

 

Or maybe to strategically mention it, eventually. Even if Regina knows exactly what she’s doing, the mind blowing fake-angry sex will be worth it.

 

Emma gently tries to extract her limb from where it’s wedged, brushing the side of Regina’s chest in the process, and Regina groans and rolls over, freeing the (now numb) arm at last.

 

“Hey, sleepy head,” Emma whispers, grinning. Early in the morning is pretty much the only time when she can get away with these types of endearments, and she takes full advantage.

 

Regina groans again. “What time is it?”

 

Emma grabs the clock from the bedside table, glances at it. “Almost 7:30.”

 

“Shit,” Regina swears, letting her legs fall to the cold floor and wincing at the temperature. Emma watches the curve of her spine and thinks about the fact that she should not be this turned on by the way her vertebrae shift under the smooth skin of her back. “I’ll be late to my meeting.”

 

“I thought that was tomorrow,” Emma says with a frown. She’d just been about to lick her way up those vertebrae.

 

“It got moved,” Regina huffs, running a comb through her hair as she rifles through her closet. “They’re worried about the audit dates.”

 

“Mm, I love it when you talk bureaucracy to me,” Emma replies in an overly breathy whisper, letting her legs fall open. (She really wants that morning quickie, okay.)

 

Regina glances at her and lingers for a hopeful moment, eyes slightly blown, except then she shakes her head ruefully. “I’m sorry, dear. We don’t have time.” She turns to slip into her black dress, and  _ of course  _ it’s the one that makes her ass look amazing and hugs every curve and also ended up on Emma’s floor the first time they ever had sex but she’s not sure if Regina remembers that and it might be a little creepy that she does.

 

“I can make you come in under five minutes. We have time.”

 

Regina slips into her heels, and Emma’s pretty sure she moves her hips a little more than strictly necessary before standing up. “Promises, promises,” she says, walking back over to the bed so she’s right above Emma, who now has a great view of her cleavage and is also twice as turned on as she was before. She leans down to kiss her, and, yes, Emma might be the one deepening it into something more than an innocent goodbye peck but Regina’s a really,  _ really  _ good kisser and sometimes if Emma catches her by surprise she makes this muffled little squeak in the back of her throat that sends warmth shooting through her veins.

 

Regina bites her lip sharply before standing up and backing toward the door on unsteady legs, her facade of composure slightly undermined by the flush spreading down her skin. “I’ll see you tonight, Miss Swan,” she says, voice sultry, and she saunters out into the hall, probably to go make sure Henry’s on his way to school.

 

“Fuck,” Emma says into the empty air.

 

\--

 

Her arousal does not disappear by the time she’s reached the sheriff’s office.

 

And it doesn’t disappear when David arrives, or when she fills out the first form in the mountain of paperwork at her desk, or even when she gets desperate enough to go to the bathroom and rub quick circles over her clit. (In her  _workplace_. That's how frantic Regina makes her.)

 

The thing is, she’s not Regina, and so all it does is make her more frustrated. She’s right on the brink, and nothing she does will bring her over, and she might come the second Regina comes home tonight but that’s  _ so far away _ . 

 

Emma texts her. There’s always the possibility of some office sex, if she’s lucky and persuasive enough.

 

e: reginaaa

e: pls don't leave me hanging like this

**r: Some of us are trying to accomplish actual work, dear.**

e: well some of us are really fucking horny

**r: Don't be crass.**

e: you like it when i'm crass ;)

e: but actually i'm so wet i might have to throw out my underwear

**r: I'm sure you know plenty of ways to take care of that situation yourself ;)**

e: omg did you just send me a winky face

e: but no david's at the station!

e: out of selfless curiosity do you have time to take a lunch break today

**r: Very selfless of you. And I thought we agreed we we would never have sex in my office.**

e: that was a stupid agreement

e: pleeeaase *puppy face*

**r: ...**

**r: I'll see you there at 12, Sheriff. Don't be late.**

 

 

Now all she has to do is wait four more hours. Shouldn’t be that hard, right?

 

(She throws her panties in her bag on the way to Regina’s office. It's not like they're actually useless, but they're cheap ones anyway and the shiver that runs through her at the thought of Regina’s face as she slips a palm down Emma’s jeans and meets only skin is pretty damn great.)

 

\--

 

She’s there by 11:59, wrenching open the door to find Regina sitting peacefully at her desk.

 

And oh, she knows it’s going to be good. She can tell by the way the corner of Regina’s mouth lifts up as she takes her in, by the way her important files have been carefully moved to the windowsill and the paperweight’s been moved from the middle to the upper left corner. She can tell because Regina rises with an almost predatory grace and stalks over to her, reaching past her to lock the door and inhaling slowly.

 

“What’s this I hear about a certain pair of panties?” Regina asks teasingly, scraping Emma’s neck with her teeth.

 

Emma tilts her head back. She’s almost uncomfortably aroused at this point, and she juts her hips forward in the hopes of some sort of friction. “I threw them out, they were so soaked. You can feel if you want.”

 

Regina sucks in a breath at this. It’s nice to know she’s not completely unaffected. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re insatiable, Miss Swan?”

 

“All the time,” Emma says cheekily, except her smirk gets swallowed by a moan as Regina slides under her shirt ( _ finally) _ and palms her breast, pinching her nipple as her other hand deftly unbuttons Emma’s jeans and cups her sex. Emma starts trying to rock against her fingers but Regina bites her ear in warning and presses her up against the door.

 

“Patience,” she says, pulling her hand back slightly. 

 

“I’ve been patient,” Emma whines, and Regina considers this for a moment while she squirms. She’s pretty sure she's dripping at this point, and her entire core feels so warm it’s a wonder Regina’s hand isn’t burning.

 

“Alright,” Regina relents at last, thrusting two fingers knuckle-deep into her, and they go in so easily that Emma immediately wants more, and she’s so close she’s  _ so fucking close _ \--

 

A knock sounds at the door. Regina’s fingers are gone, suddenly, and Emma squeaks in protest as Regina pulls down her shirt. Both their pupils are wide with lust--it’s pretty obvious what they’ve been doing, in her opinion--but Regina seems to recover swiftly, inching her dress back down and  _ licking  _ Emma off her fingers (fuck, Emma thinks to herself as she buttons her own jeans up, because there will never be a time when that’s not the hottest thing she’s ever seen.)

 

Regina flicks her hand in the direction of the closet, and so Emma trudges over to the door and hides among the various knickknacks Regina has acquired during her time as mayor. If she’s looking for something vaguely phallic in shape, well, then, no one will ever know and she doesn’t find anything anyway.

 

“Madame Mayor,” she hears a voice say, and--is that Archie?

 

“Dr. Hopper.”

 

“I was reading the journal entry you gave me at our last appointment together, and I was hoping to discuss some of the more...intense aspects of the passage.”

 

“Dr. Hopper, I hardly think this is the time--”

 

“Madame Mayor, if you have specific fantasies that involve your partner taking more control in the bedroom, I think it’s important to communicate that.”

 

Emma lets out a muffled shriek and slams her hand over her mouth. She’s pretty sure Regina kicks the desk to cover the sound.

 

“I give those journal entries to you under the assumption that they will remain private,” Regina snaps, and Emma winces at her tone. 

 

“Yes, and you can trust me not to betray your confidence. However, it is my belief that communication is an essential part of any relationship and that it could be a mutually enjoyable experience to indulge in one of these fantasies, as long as you discuss it beforehand.”

 

“Well, thank you for your input,  _ Doctor _ ,” Regina says, like the title is the worst insult imaginable. “I will see you next week for our  _ scheduled private appointment _ .”

 

“Right,” Archie says, sounding slightly relieved that the whole thing is over, and Emma hears the door close after a beat.

 

Regina opens the closet without looking at her, striding toward her desk rapidly.

 

“So,” Emma says.

 

“Lunch break is over, Miss Swan,” Regina replies, and it’s not the sexy  _ Miss Swan  _ she sometimes uses in bed.

 

“Oh. Okay.” Emma didn’t think this would be such a big deal, but it seems like it is. She wonders if she should say something reassuring or if that would exacerbate the situation. “See you tonight?”

 

Regina looks at her, finally, and her eyes soften. “Of course.”

 

Emma goes back to her office. The whole thing probably should have killed the mood, but the truth is that she’s still really fucking horny.

 

\--

 

She’s mostly always operated under the assumption that Regina loves taking control. Even when Emma’s on top, that dynamic is still there, the small power plays that Regina exerts, the directions she gives that Emma is only too happy to follow. And Regina’s had so much control taken away from her in the past that Emma’s wary of making certain moves, because they both have a lot of history and neither of them are particularly good at talking things through, even if they’re trying to be better.

 

Except now Archie’s words keep sticking in her head, combining with her arousal to form images in her head of Regina beneath her,  _ trusting _ her, and she’s finding it hard to breathe. The fact that Regina has enough faith in her to fantasize about this is probably what makes it so hot, because Emma knows she’s the only one who Regina’s let in this far. It’s thrilling to think of, all that power over such a powerful woman.

 

But god, she really doesn’t want to fuck this up.

 

Which is why when Regina finally gets home, flustered and still partway lost in reflections over her meeting, Emma backs her up against the kitchen counter and asks, “is this actually something you want?” Because she’s an adult now, damn it, and she can have mature conversations with people she cares about, even if they are about sex and Emma’s always been more of a show-don’t-tell kind of girl.

 

And Regina’s looking at her with wide eyes, strong eyes, open eyes, and she’s saying, “yes.” ( _ she’s saying yes _ .)

 

“You'll tell me if there’s anything that makes you uncomfortable, or that you don’t like.”

 

“Of course,” Regina says, and when Emma bites her lip because it’s a lot of responsibility, and she really, really does not want to fuck this up, Regina grabs her face and whispers, “Emma. It’s okay.”

 

So Emma kind of sighs and lets all the tension ebb out of her limbs, and then she pushes Regina’s arms back by her sides and kisses her hard enough to bruise and says “good, because I’ve been on the edge all day and I’m pretty sure you owe me at least five orgasms,” and then she grinds down on Regina’s leg like some horny teenager to let her feel exactly how wet she is.

 

Regina moans, just a little. Emma smiles.

 

They get to the bedroom eventually, all twisted limbs and jagged teeth. Emma’s not sure when her bra came off, but she thinks it might be downstairs. (She’s also incredibly grateful that Henry’s at a sleepover tonight.)

 

She pulls off her jeans, and then she’s naked, pressing her skin to Regina, who’s got her dress hiked up to her waist and whose underwear have mysteriously disappeared.

 

Emma pushes her down to the bed, eager but gentle, still. “I’m going to ride your face now,” she says. “Don’t use your hands.” 

 

She pauses to check Regina’s reaction for a second, but there’s no hesitancy, just lust and those strong open eyes, and so Emma hovers her sex just over Regina’s mouth and lets her smell it for a moment, want it. When Regina moans again, quietly, she lowers herself down at last.

 

And suddenly she can’t think, and her breath’s stuttering out, and her hips start jerking of their own accord. They’ve done this before, but Regina’s always been the one to initiate it and tell her how to move, when to move, to close her eyes so she’s not ready for the mouth on her clit. It’s never been like this, because now Emma’s chasing Regina’s tongue and curving her back with her hands on the headboard and Regina keeps making these  _ sounds _ , uncontrollable little gasps that reverberate inside of her.

 

Emma comes fast and she almost cries from the relief, the pressure building within her suddenly gone. Regina keeps going though, biting her overstimulated clit slightly until Emma swears and shudders her way through another orgasm, and then another small one, before she groans and pushes herself away in surrender.

 

She flops onto the bed, letting a few aftershocks run through her. She doesn’t want to open her eyes and stop floating.

 

When she looks down, finally, she can see that Regina’s hips are thrusting into the air, searching. Emma stretches to stroke just outside of her sex, except then she thinks about Regina teasing her this morning and reconsiders, settling a hand on Regina’s hip and applying pressure. “Not yet,” she says.

 

Regina clenches her jaw. It’s the only sign of desperation she’s letting Emma see, but it’s enough to send electricity shooting through her core.

Emma maneuvers herself over Regina again, and Regina seems to understand, entering her with one finger and then two, scissoring them back and forth. The heel of her hand catches Emma’s clit with every other thrust. Emma hisses in pleasure, and Regina takes this as her cue to slide a third finger into her wetness, stretching her as she twists the digits rhythmically.

 

Emma’s close already, which would be embarrassing if she could actually think instead of just moaning unintelligibly at how good Regina’s fingers feel. Regina grabs a handful of her ass to pull her closer and bites at the side of her breast and then she’s gone, spiraling into a void of ecstasy all over again.

 

“Please,” Regina says when Emma can form coherent thoughts. She’s got her eyes half closed and her fingernails are digging into Emma’s shoulder blade and god, it’s a rush to see her beg. Emma wants to hear it again and again and again.

 

(Maybe another time.)

 

Emma whispers, “you’ve been so good for me, haven’t you,” and Regina shivers. Emma curls two fingers into her and tongues her clit before sucking hard, bracing her leg with her available arm, and Regina bites her fist and comes immediately, muscles contracting as she arches further into Emma’s mouth.

 

She could watch Regina come all day, and never get bored; one time she got herself off while Regina was away on a trip just by thinking about the sounds she makes, and the way the scar above her lip looks when her face contorts in bliss.

 

“Acceptable?” she asks, joking but also not.

 

“Very. I think I still owe you another orgasm, though,” Regina says sleepily, and Emma laughs. She’s kind of good where she is, actually. Utterly satisfied, even if it did take a while to get here.

 

“Maybe tomorrow morning,” she replies. “Let’s just go to bed.”

 

“Tired already?”

 

“I could never get tired of you,” Emma says, which might be a little much but her filter disappears after one round, let alone four.

 

Regina just snuggles closer and pushes one of her legs between Emma’s ankles, and Emma breathes in the smell of sex and sweat and breathes out a contented sigh.

 

(One time she’d been bored and had taken one of those online polls from Cosmopolitan.  _ Find Your Soulmate _ , the title had announced, and she’d clicked her way through questions about pet preferences and hair colors and intelligence until she’d come to  _ love or lust?  _ which was such a stupid question that she’d closed the entire window and gone to Granny’s for a cheeseburger instead. 

 

Because, like, why not both?)


End file.
